


And You'll Wonder How You Got Here

by romanticallyinept



Series: 100 Songs for Overwatch [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blackwatch Era, Comfort Sex, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14075379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticallyinept/pseuds/romanticallyinept
Summary: “So a solo mission,” Jesse says, and there’s an almost hopeful tone to his voice. And that in itself is odd, given the man’s love for showing off. Everything about the situation is odd, Genji comes to realize slowly. Jesse is leaning forward across the table, hat tipped back, fingers laced together. He’s attentive, alert. On edge in thebriefing room. For the moment, Genji files the information away.





	And You'll Wonder How You Got Here

The briefing is _boring_. 

It’s not that Genji doesn’t enjoy hearing the strike commander drone on and one about tactics (he doesn’t) or that he doesn’t enjoy the company of his teammates. But Jack is always concerned about things he shouldn’t be. Morality, _legality_... escaping those is why Blackwatch was founded, after all. And normally, Reyes wouldn’t bother with any of this, but Jack is _worried_ , so Reyes is standing in the corner, arms crossed while he waits impatiently.

But disinterested as he is, Genji doesn’t miss Jesse’s sharp intake of breath in response to something Jack says. So he tunes in to the lecture, curious as to what has the cowboy so surprised.

“...since they know him. We’re not sure if this resurgence is actually Deadlock at all, or just copycats, but either way, Jesse will be able to get us some intel.”

“So a solo mission,” Jesse says, and there’s an almost hopeful tone to his voice. And that in itself is odd, given the man’s love for showing off. Everything about the situation is odd, Genji comes to realize slowly. Jesse is leaning forward across the table, hat tipped back, fingers laced together. He’s attentive, alert. On edge in the _briefing room_. For the moment, Genji files the information away.

Jack shakes his head in response to Jesse’s question. “We can’t afford to send you in by yourself and risk their resistance.” He pauses, glancing back at Reyes, who rolls his eyes and nods. “Genji will be accompanying you.”

Jesse’s eyes dart to him, hard and uncertain, even though Genji can see the smallest inklings of fear behind them. “No offense,” the man drawls, the causal tone obviously feigned - to Genji’s ears, at least. “But you ain’t exactly Deadlock material.” He looks Genji up and down, shaking his head before looking at Jack. “They’re more’ve a flesh-and-blood type, if you know what I mean.”

But Jack just shakes his head. “Genji is going in as an omnic. First one of a new series. Just deadly enough for Deadlock to be interested.”

Jesse looks between them, as if he’s waiting for Genji to protest. But as much as playing the part of a killing machine is going to be _dull_ , Genji is interested in this job, if only because of Jesse’s reaction to being sent on it.

“You leave at 0800.”

* * *

“If it’s anyone actually related to Deadlock, it’s Ryder.”

They’re on the transport, halfway to Nevada before Jesse actually speaks. 

“Ryder?” Genji repeats, because as much as the name means something to Jesse, it isn’t in any of their files, not that he can remember. Admittedly, Deadlock isn’t his best subject, but with a computer’s memory at his service, he doesn’t often forget things.

“Old arms dealer we… _they_ used to do business with,” Jesse answers, shaking his head as he corrects himself. “If it’s not a bunch’a copycats, it’s him.”

That’s the last thing Jesse says for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Jesse checks them into the hotel. Genji stays a respectul handful of paces behind the cowboy, an obvious show of inferiority that draws a few glances, eyes lingering on the places where his skin meets metal and wiring. 

_”Next generation omnic,”_ Jack had said. _”Fusion of synthetic and organic. Not too unbelievable, is it?”_

Personally, Genji wasn’t entirely sure of that, but as was usually the case, Jack was right. Before they could even make it to the elevator to go up to their room, Jesse was stopped by a tall man with broad shoulders and a gun on his belt. 

“Ryder’s gonna be just so happy to see you,” the man says, and Genji doesn’t miss the way Jesse winces.

There’s a car waiting outside. Genji and Jesse sit in the back, and while there’s a surprising lack of weapons pointed at them, there’s no feeling of lost love, either. Next to him, Jesse’s breathing has kicked up a few notches, and the UI in Genji’s face mask tells him that the man’s heart rate has picked up, too. He’s on edge, more so than he should be for what is essentially an intel-collecting mission.

The car takes them to what appears to be an abandoned home, but as soon as Genji and Jesse cross the threshold, it becomes rather obvious that the disrepair is just part of the camouflage. A dozen or so men are in the room, with half of them lazily holding guns that are pointed at Jesse and Genji. The red bead of a laser dances for a moment on Genji’s chest before darting over to Jesse’s, running up and down his chest. 

“Well, would you look at that? The bitch is back.”

The speaker’s voice is grating, rough. Genji pinpoints him in a moment, the obvious leader of the ragtag gang. He’s the only one that’s _clean_ , shaven, well-fed enough that his cheeks don’t look hollow. Genji doesn’t recognize him from any of the Deadlock files, but he takes a snapshot with his UI to send back to the team. If he had to wager a guess, he would say it was Ryder, the man Jesse had mentioned earlier. 

He expects to hear some sort of comeback from Jesse, but when he doesn’t, he turns his head just slightly, just enough to see that Jesse is standing stock still, head bowed and hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. There’s no easy confidence, none of the man’s usual swagger - and Genji is perhaps more disturbed than he should be. 

“I know where I belong,” Jesse says after a long moment, and Genji has never heard his voice sound so soft, so _submissive_. But no one else seems surprised. The leader just laughs, and with that, the guns pointed at them lower. 

“Took you fucking long enough.” The man gets to his feet, his coat falling open to reveal a pistol at his side. Unlike Jesse’s Peacekeeper, the gun is modern, automatic, sleek and black. Ryder notices Genji looking, because his next remark is about him. “Is this all you brought back for us?”

Genji doesn’t have to fake the irritation about being spoken about like he’s a _thing_. And Jesse is in no state to engage, whatever is wrong with him, so Genji does. Raising his hand, he twists his wrist, summoning shurikens up to slot between his metal fingers. “Since this is not yet available to the public,” he says, keeping his voice even, “I would say this is quite an impressive gift.”

The man’s eyes narrow, but Genji just flicks all but one of the stars away before shifting his grip and holding the shuriken out. Ryder takes it, thumbing against one of the edges before whistling softly. 

“The bitch brought us back a goddamn _assassin_ , boys.”

The men around them laugh. The leader chuckles as well, and then the hand holding the shuriken comes up quickly, swiping across Jesse’s face. It’s a movement Genji could have stopped, but the result is just a thin, red line across Jesse’s cheek, enough to sting and not much more. 

“That’s for taking your sweet-ass time,” Ryder says, and then holds the shuriken out for Genji to take. “Now. You gonna ‘pologize properly or not?”

The flush hits Jesse’s cheeks immediately, and he looks up, first at Ryder, and then at Genji. It takes Genji far longer than it should to realize that the emotion in Jesse’s eyes is _shame_ , and when, a moment later, the cowboy drops to his knees, he understands why.

Ryder reaches for the button on his pants, a leer on his face, and the world seems to slow around him.

Since his transformation, Genji has devoted himself to learning patience. The impulsiveness of his youth had slowly transformed into precise decision-making, and he liked that. He liked the control, the feeling of actively choosing his path.

But Genji’s next decision is all impulse. 

An upward swipe of the shuriken severs Ryder’s jugular, sending blood flying out over Genji, Jesse, and a few of the men standing closer. The star embeds itself in one of their chests, and then Genji pulls out his blade. 

It takes him sixty seconds to dispose of the rest of the crew. Their reflexes were mediocre at best, and the shock at seeing their leader’s throat slit made those even worse. Genji isn’t even breathing hard when he comes up out of a tucked roll, sheathing his bloody blade with a quick, practiced motion.

But Jesse is still on his knees.

Slowly, Genji approaches, stopping when he’s standing in front of the other man. This close, he can see that Jesse is shaking, his hands trembling even as they’re fisted against his sides. Genji can’t see his face with the hat in the way, but he doesn't remove it. Instead, he reaches out with his human hand and gently touches the man’s shoulder. “Jesse,” he murmurs, his voice oddly loud in the now-silent room.

Jesse jerks under his hand, his eyes flying up to meet Genji’s. There are tear-tracks on his face, cutting through the sluggishly bleeding cut on his cheek. And he’s still trembling, still _afraid_ , and that is enough to convince Genji that he made the right choice.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Jesse doesn’t speak a word until they get back to the safehouse, and as soon as they walk inside, Genji watches as the man all but collapses next to the wastebasket and retches. Comfort isn’t his strong suit, but he knows enough to get a glass of water from the kitchen and kneel next to Jesse, putting what he hopes is a comforting hand on his back.

After a few minutes, Jesse sighs and straightens, reaching up to wipe bile and spit off his mouth. His eyes are red again, and there are fresh tears on his face, but Genji just hands him the glass of water and says, “I understand why you wanted this to be a solo mission.”

And he does. It’s evident by the shame in the glance Jesse throws him before dropping his eyes, in the way he’d looked at Genji before dropping to his knees. It’s a part of his past that Jesse doesn’t want associated with him, doesn’t want people to look at him and see. 

Jesse grimaces before giving a little half-shrug, though the movement doesn’t do anything to dislodge Genji’s hand. “‘s not like it matters now,” he says, and his voice is broken in a way Genji hasn’t heard before. “‘s all gonna be in a neat little file ‘fore the day’s out.”

Genji can’t help the sound he makes, something between a derisive snort and a chuckle. “The way I remember it,” he says, “they refused to trust an omnic. And we did what had to be done.”

Jesse flashes him another look, wary and full of disbelief, and it lingers as the man searches Genji’s face, like he could find the lie there even if there was one to find. And with that realization, Jesse just… crumbles. Genji barely catches him, drawing him in as the man sobs, his fingers clutching at whatever part of Genji he can get a grip on. 

With the exception of Angela, Genji hasn’t felt someone’s skin against his own in years. It’s surprisingly electric, sending shivers down his spine even as he does his best to turn his focus to Jesse, to the way the man in breaking down in his arms. The touch is just a distraction, and he has more willpower than to let himself be consumed by it.

Carefully, he shifts himself to his feet, taking advantage of cybernetic muscle as he gathers Jesse into his arms. The beds are close, thankfully, and it’s easy to lay the man on one of them. And it’s Genji’s intention to make him lose his boots and then _sleep_ , but when he tries to pull back, Jesse’s fingers scrabble against his back, looking for purchase. 

“Don’t leave,” he says, and his voice is hoarse, desperate. 

“Hush,” Genji answers, his metal hand coming up to gently cup Jesse’s face. “Let me take care of you.”

For a moment, Jesse doesn’t move, but eventually he loses the death grip he has on Genji’s back and relaxes onto the bed, his eyes closing. Reaching up, Genji takes his hat, setting it on the bedside table before moving to the end of the bed and starting on the laces of his boots. 

He’s halfway through the first boot when Jesse says, “I used’ta think I was trading them out for a brand new set of the same damn thing.”

Genji glances up, but Jesse’s eyes are still closed, so he continues, slipping the boot off his foot a moment later. Jesse flexes his toes, sighs, and says, “Took me way too long to figure out y’all weren’t the type to bend me over a desk when the fancy took ya.”

Genji tugs a little too hard on the lace, and it snaps, leaving him holding a frayed end. He tosses it aside with a quick, impatient gesture - he shouldn’t be the one here for this. Amari would handle it better. _Angela_ would handle it better. She would know the right things to say, the right way to tell Jesse that he was fucking stupid without using those exact words. But all Genji knows how to do is tug the boot off Jesse’s foot and say, “I did not believe Jack’s ‘we’re a family’ lectures in the beginning, either.”

It earns him a brief, dry chuckle, but it’s better than nothing. Rising, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed, close to Jesse’s side, and his hand hesitates before reaching out to brush over the cut on Jesse’s cheek. The man winces, goes to turn away, but Genji doesn’t move his hand. 

“I had half a mind to send it down his throat, instead of across it,” he says, almost casually, like he isn’t talking about how he killed a man. “Making him choke on something would have been rather...karmic.”

It’s in bad taste, but Jesse laughs anyway, and the sound is a little brighter than it had been a few moments earlier. And perhaps making a joke about the man who had no doubt brought Jesse so much pain in the past wasn’t the _right_ thing to do, but they were both broken enough that right and wrong tended to flip-flop.

Still, Genji is surprised when Jesse reaches up, frowning when he can’t find the release for his face mask. 

“Damn thing makes spontaneously kissing you impossible,” he says, and his voice is breathy, unsure, but there isn’t any fear in it. There _is_ desire, and Genji remembers the way Jesse’s fingers hand felt on his skin.

So he reaches up and presses the latch, slowly removing the mask and setting it aside. His bottom jaw is still entirely metal, and he knows Jesse sees it because the man’s eyes dart over his face, taking it in, before he leans up and presses their mouths together. 

The sensation is as familiar as it is foreign. In his younger days, Genji spent a good portion of his time seeking out pleasure in any way he could find it, but perhaps time has dulled the memories, or perhaps he is more in tune with his body now, but the kiss sends a fire down his spine that Genji can’t remember feeling before. He makes a sound into the kiss, his flesh hand coming to slide into Jesse’s hair as he turns his head, changing the angle.

Jesse _moans_ , unabashed and free, and the vents on the back of Genji’s neck release steam as he feels himself heat up. Jesse looks up at the noise, and his face is so confused that Genji can’t help but laugh, a little. “That unexpected?”

Jesse fixes him with a look that’s half lust, half pure annoyance. “Sounds like your cooling system needs an upgrade, darlin’.”

“It was not designed to handle _you_ ,” Genji returns, and this time, he enjoys seeing the flush that rises under Jesse’s collar. Shifting, he moves to lay next to the other man, propping himself up on one hand. He doesn’t press their bodies together, doesn’t slot one leg between Jesse’s to press up against the rapidly growing bulge in his pants, even though the thought is a nice one. He won’t press, won’t ask. Not now. 

Jesse looks at him curiously, and the corner of Genji’s mouth curls up. “See something you like, _darlin’_?” he asks, butchering his attempt to mimic Jesse’s accent. But as terrible as it sounds, it gets the desired effect. Jesse’s eyes go dark, and they look Genji up and down before finally settling on his eyes, the want there finally outweighing the uncertainty. 

“You, uh, _equipped_ for that?”

Genji can’t help the full grin that spreads across his face at that. Angela had been… kind, when rebuilding him, and even though he hadn’t been able to look her in the eye for weeks after he’d come to, he appreciates her work now. 

“Depends,” he says, holding Jesse’s gaze. “What do you want?”

The question breaks whatever last little wall of hesitation in Jesse, because a moment later, Genji is on his back and Jesse is straddling him, chest rising and falling with the new, quick pace of his breaths. “Want you,” he says, and Genji doesn’t miss the way the man’s eyes flutter shut when he puts his hands on Jesse’s hips. 

“You have me,” he answers, his voice still even, calm. He tugs on one of Jesse’s belt loops. “Off?”

Jesse all but scrambles off him, metal and human fingers both fumbling with his pants for a long minute before he finally pushes them down. Genji, in the meantime, presses the release on his thigh that slides part of the protective plating that encases him back. Used to his body as he is now, the sight of the carbon fiber cock Angela equipped him with isn’t unusual, but the low, rough “Fucking _Christ_ ,” he hears come from Jesse a moment later tells him that the cowboy is anything but nonplussed. 

Genji opens his mouth to say something, he thinks, something about how he has all the necessary upgrades, thanks, but before he can, the smooth skin of Jesse’s palm is on the synthetic shaft, and Genji’s voice dies in his throat. 

Absently, he thinks that that, at least, is still the same. Another’s touch was always better than his own, and apparently, that is still true, because Jesse’s hesitant touch has him fighting the urge to throw his head back and arch up into the sensation. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he lifts his head, meeting Jesse’s wide eyes. 

For a moment, the cowboy just looks stunned. His hand is still wrapped loosely around Genji’s cock, and he’s staring down at where his flesh meets the synthetic fibers like he can puzzle out some sort of understanding just from looking. But before the moment can get uncomfortable, Jesse looks up and says with an unmistakable crack in his voice, “Your dick is fucking _ribbed_.”

Shifting, Genji presses his hips up a little, so that the ribbing in question brushes against Jesse’s palm. “Modern technology,” he says, his voice breathier than he ever remembers hearing it, “is a wonderful thing.”

Jesse makes a sound that is almost pained, and then he’s back in Genji’s lap, leaning down to kiss him desperately. There’s want and need all wrapped up in something else, something fragile, and maybe Genji knows what it’s like to feel too damaged, too terrible to be touched. But he doesn’t examine the feeling, doesn’t stop kissing Jesse, even as his metal hand slips behind him, cold fingers pressing up against his entrance.

Jesse gasps and ducks his head into Genji’s neck, even as he rocks his hips back, asking for more. And Genji is all too glad to give it to him. He’s going to owe Angela a basket of flowers. Smiling, he presses a button on his wrists, and a moment later, his fingers are slick as they press back against Jesse. 

One slips inside easily, drawing a harsh breath from the man on top of him. A second pulls a whine, high and desperate, and a third gets Genji the feeling of teeth against his neck as Jesse tries to bite back the sounds he’s making. But the man is still rocking back against his fingers, fucking himself open, and that’s more than enough of a green light.

The sound Jesse makes when Genji slips his fingers out is broken, keening. But Genji just hushes him gently as he lines himself up, pressing a delicate kiss to Jesse’s ear before canting his hips _up_.

Jesse’s voice, when he yells, is raw. 

It feels nothing like it did before his new body. It feels nothing like his own hand after, either. Genji can’t even begin to describe the feeling - hell, he doesn’t even understand how he has feeling there in the first place. But Jesse’s tight heat has pleasure sparking across his skin, building him up to a familiar high. And his enhanced senses won’t let him miss all the sounds Jesse’s making, the broken whines he’s breathing into Genji’s neck, the wet gasps he makes every time Genji angles his hips just right and hits that sweet spot. 

Jesse comes, unexpectedly, when Genji’s foot slips on the mattress and makes his thrust just a fraction harder than it should have been. The orgasm ripples through his whole body as he shakes apart in Genji’s arms, around his cock, spurting into the space between them.

Genji stops moving, his arms going to wrap around Jesse to hold him while he comes down. Eventually, the shaking subsides and Jesse pulls his face out of Genji’s neck. He looks wrecked, lips bitten red and pupils so wide and dark they almost eclipse his eyes. Jesse’s hair is plastered to his forehead, stuck there in odd shapes, so Genji reaches up, brushing it away for him.

“Did you…?” Jesse starts, cutting himself off before he can finish. Hand still shaking, he gestures at the mess between them.

“Did I come?” Genji asks, just to see Jesse’s face flush a little more. He shakes his head, but raises a hand before the other man can say anything. “I… do not,” he says, because he lacks any other explanation. “But I assure you, the feeling is still better than anything else.”

Jesse doesn’t look quite convinced, but he also looks exhausted. He nods, and then shifts, wincing a little as he lifts himself off Genji. He glances at the mess again, and then all but collapses back onto the bed, shaking his head. “Can’t,” he says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

“We will worry in the morning,” Genji replies, waving a hand dismissively as he draws the blanket up over them, pressing the button that closes the metal plating again. Angela will likely chew him out for the detail work she’s going to have to do to clean his finer parts, but that’s something Genji can worry about later. He tugs Jesse forward, back against his now-clean chest, and the man all but melts into him. 

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs, and a moment later, he knows Jesse complies by the way his breathing evens out.

For the rest of the night, Genji absently strokes Jesse’s hair and thinks that he ended the bastard’s life far more quickly than he deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> why do i write rarepairs, you ask?
> 
> because i hate myself, that's why.
> 
> inspired by "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots.


End file.
